Fugue of the Disgaea Triplets
by Persephone Oswald Oleesen
Summary: Just because they've all come together doesn't mean their story has to end. A peek into the continuing lives of Laharl, Flonne, Etna and those around them as they go about their daily lives. Humor, friendship and fluff all included.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of the Disgaea franchise.

About the Fic: To put it simply, this story is compiled of four odd scenes. I meant to characterize each of the original Disgaea three by making them all a bit older and more mature; I hope it shows.

* * *

Movement I: Introduction

_The Netherworld…_

_A dreadful, sinful, malodorous place where only the evilest of creatures live._

… _But only in certain areas. In most places, the inhabitants are simply stupid and harmless._

_Like in the Overlord's castle, for instance. Even though the Overlord himself is smart, handsome, and incredibly friggin' strong, the demons and prinnies who work for him are all brainless partygoers. Now, the Overlord has nothing against party people. But you're crossing the line when you're supposed to be making a delicious meal for your Overlord and instead break the lock on the alcohol storeroom. If you invite a few of the level six-hundred demons to your "party", then things get ugly. None of the Overlord's idiot father's vassals could ever hold their liquor very well. Or, maybe they could and pretended they couldn't. Whatever the case, the castle now has a destroyed alcohol storeroom and someone has to pay._

"Noooooooooo—_nonononononononooooo_, _please_, Sir Almighty Evil Overlord, dood! Please don't kill me—I'm _squeamish_ around swords!" A blue penguin-like creature dashes out of the throne room, followed by several others like itself and a dragonlike demon who seems to be having the time of his/her life, giggling into his/her paw as he/she flees for his/her life.

The Sir Mighty Evil Overlord himself, who happens to have inherited a penchant for inner dialogues from his late father, follows, blasting the wooden doors from their hinges in a fit of fiery teenage rage, shouting at the top of his lungs about murder and travesty. His blaze continues down the hall, but _we_ are still at the entrance to the throne room. Now a young blond girl emerges, calling the Overlord's name and hurrying after him. Or would be, if her girlish imbalance wasn't causing her to trip every few steps; she has just discovered that she has breasts and is still trying to understand the new weight they bring to her upper half as she stumbles along. After she has gone another young girl pokes her head out of the doorway, glancing around the foyer before cautiously leaving the throne room. This is Etna, master of the prinnies and right-hand vassal to our dear Overlord. She surveys the room a little longer, seemingly very interested in the décor of the room. After a moment she stomps her foot and then she too is yelling, running after her companions and complaining about how they cannot afford to destroy the castle for the third time this month. She is unaffected by the awkward side effects of growing up and instead totes her extra weight along like she's had it all of her life. Somewhere in another part of the castle something explodes.

This is the true face of the Netherworld's government.

* * *

Movement II: Allegro

Twenty minutes later and the Overlord is in the throne room once again, slouched in the throne he'd vied for eight hundred years prior. The small fires he'd set earlier had already been doused and the payment he'd sought had been brought in full: a smoking pile of prinnies is located off to the right of the throne (don't worry; they're crispy, but alive). Laharl, weary after the morning's excitement leans into the palm of his hand as his royal advisor Aramis drones on about one thing or another. Laharl is steadily falling asleep in his hand, his main worry not about what Aramis might be speaking of but only whether or not he was drooling on himself. An Overlord has an image to protect, and even though Laharl's idea of a good Overlord is an evil, materialistic, self-serving scab of a demon, he also believes an Overlord must be hygienic. As he tunes back in to the world just to check on this pressing matter, Aramis says something that completely takes his mind off of sleeping.

"What did you just say?"

Aramis sighs with boredom that a fifteen hundred-year-old demon shouldn't have and folds his arms over his chest. "I said there's been an unusual output of energy from your sword lately." The pink-headed child nods toward the far wall where Yoshitsuna leans against the stone, so very harmless-looking for such a powerful sword. "Now, I'm only making a guess, but I believe there's another, even more powerful weapon somewhere inside that one."

Laharl shakes his head slowly, dropping his cheek back into the palm of his hand. Maybe what Aramis was saying wasn't more important than catching a few winks, after all. "Can't be. I've already defeated the Item God in Yoshi. There's nothing more powerful than that inside an item."

Aramis' eyes light up and suddenly he looks seven hundred years old again, almost like when he'd explained to Laharl and his friends about his greatest zombie creation—_"… My masterpiece, the Netherworld's ultimate zombie!"_—at Salamander's Breath. "No, you're right. The Item God _is_ the most powerful enemy inside an item. Which is why I was skeptical too, at first. Then I did a little more research and discovered that the enemy in possession of the sword may be no more than level two hundred. You may very well have skipped past him while you were traveling down to the bottom floor!"

_Now_ Sir Almighty Evil Overlord was listening, if for no other reason than because he recognized that expression on Aramis' face. The look partially excited him and partially scared him—the last time Aramis had looked at him like that, he had described a friggin' _horse wiener_, for God's sake! "No way! How the hell could he have hidden such a powerful weapon from me?"

Aramis giggled—yes, you heard right, the royal advisor _giggled_—and inched closer to the throne, eyes now shining. "Well, my theory is he must be able to somehow hide the energy emanating from the sword so that it would be undetectable. That's the only possible explanation!"

Laharl was on the edge of his seat, kicking his legs like schoolboy. He chuckled (only because this is _his_ story; if anybody else had been telling the story, _he_ would have giggled, too) and cracked his knuckles. "Well, we're just gonna have to go back into Yoshi and see if we can smoke this guy out! I _want_ that sword, Aramis!"

Aramis rubbed his hands together. "_My precccioussssss_…"

Laharl stopped formulating evil plans for a moment to give his advisor a quizzical look.

Aramis shook his head, frowning down at the floor. "I… Don't know where that came from. Sorry, Your Highness."

Laharl shrugged, standing from his throne. "Eh, no harm done. Gather up the troops, Aramis! We've got a sword to find."

Aramis bowed low. "Yes, Your Highness."

* * *

Movement III: Harmony

"LAAAAHARLLLL!"

Sir Almighty Evil Determined Overlord Laharl winces as his oversensitive ears are assaulted by the high-pitched voice that could only come from his wife. He ends his turn on _Disgaea 3_ before looking up from his flat screen television. "Damn it, Love Freak, I'm right here. There's no need to scream."

It's a good thing he just finished his turn because Flonne plants herself in-between him and the television. "Laharl, how could you? How could you _do_ such a thing to me?"

Laharl stares at her for a minute and then looks away, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. He is caught between conflicting emotions; he's angry that she interrupted his game to scream at him, but at the same time he's happy to have her around. He wants to threaten her with bodily harm but fears that being so physically close to her might generate those _other_ feelings… Feelings that felt right to him and at the same time very, very wrong. "It would help if I knew what the hell you were talking about, Flonne. Geez," he ends lamely, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing he could control his blood better.

Flonne huffs angrily, stomping her foot and bringing her hands to her hips. "How could you _not_ know what I'm talking about?" Then: "Is it true Aramis may have discovered a new sword for you?"

He sneaks a glance up at her. Mrs. Sir Almighty Evil Overlord almost looks interested, so he figures it'd be okay if he answers her this time. "Yeah. He says a resident inside Yoshi may have been hiding the sword all this time, and the sword itself is supposed to be tons more powerful than Yoshi is! And it's supposedly a weak resident, too. Taking the sword from him is gonna be no problem! We're gonna go in there tonight and kick some ass!"

Flonne's frown had almost become a smile throughout his speech; at the last part the anger was back, making her crimson eyes flash dangerously. "Laharl, you _can't_ go tonight! You already have plans, _remember_?"

"The hell I do! I'm gonna get that sword!" As soon as the words left his mouth he realized he'd forgotten something important; the crestfallen look on Flonne's face was enough to tell him that much. He tries to ignore it, but as all the experts say it's a lot easier to ignore somebody if they're not standing in the way of your game. After a minute of twiddling the toggles on the controller and hearing the game respond, he growls. "What the hell is that look for, Love Freak? There something you're not telling me? N-not that I care," he adds, wincing. _Damn, I sound _really _lame today_!

Flonne stares down at her feet, her hurt expression simultaneously making Laharl angry and guilty. "Well, it's just… A few days ago, you promised me we'd watch the eighth season of _Prism Ranger_ on our anniversary. And, well…" She flaps her arms at nothing in particular as if this would help him understand her point.

And he does; all of a sudden the anger he felt toward her is directed inward as he realizes that he forgot their anniversary. _Again_.He hangs his head, shutting his eyes tightly as he berates himself in his mind. _Six hundred years of this shit, Laharl! When are you gonna grow up?_ Still, he tries to get away without showing his guilt; he turns away from her and folds his arms over his chest. "What a stupid idea. I never promised that. You're delusional."

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, his voice doesn't hold much conviction, and Flonne understands right away that he knows he forgot and feels terrible about it. Instead of being angry or sad, Flonne smiles and drops to her knees beside him. Laying a hand on his knee, she leans towards him and says, "Well, if you want to make up the fact that you forgot about our anniversary, the offer's still open, Laharl."

Sir Almighty Evil Guilty Overlord Laharl instantly tenses at her touch on his knee and almost jerks away from her. At the last moment he stops himself—_If you think she was pissed at you before, you have _no idea_ how scary she can get_—and suffices for turning his upper body away from her. "I didn't forget anything!"

Flonne smiles sadly and pats his knee. She knows that no matter what she says Laharl will disagree with her—they've been together for too long for her not to. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me." She wants to give him a kiss on the cheek, but with the odd angle that he's in, his face turned completely away from her, she decides it'd be too much of a hassle to try. So instead she stands and turns to leave. Etna probably won't want to watch _Prism Rangers_ with her, so maybe she'll call up Gordon IX and see if he can come to the Netherworld for a while. He's only twelve, so he still likes cartoons as much as the next kid. Of course, nothing would be like watching the show with Laharl, but she'll have fun with the descendant of her old friend too.

Making a noise that almost sounds physically painful Laharl reaches out and grabs the back of Flonne's frock and pulls. She stumbles, then lands right in Laharl's lap with a startled squeak. The small flame in the pit of his stomach becomes a flash fire, but he ignores it and takes advantage of her surprise to wrap his arms around her middle, trapping her in his lap whether she wanted to be there or not—and, if one was to go by the sudden cherry color of her pretty features, she wanted to be there. He sighs as he buries his face into her hair, reveling in the not-unpleasant softness of it. She shivers in his arms, and he realizes that his actions have stunned her into complete silence. He's simultaneously amused and appalled, and satisfies both feelings by holding her tighter and mocking her in a low voice. "What's the matter, Love Freak? 'Thought you liked this kind of thing."

For a moment she cannot speak, her tongue seemingly attached to her heart, which has lodged itself in her throat. She swallows that particular organ and, instead of responding to his comment she whispers, "So does this mean we're gonna watch _Prism Rangers_?"

Laharl considers. He _could_ leave herto go find a sword that could help him conquer the entire universe, a blade more potent than Yoshitsuna, the most powerful sword on record. For a second he is tempted. After all, who _doesn't_ want to rule the universe?

Then, as Flonne turns toward him and wraps her own arms around his middle his blood seems to drown out any other thought. Distantly he decides that this is good enough, for now. The sword has waited this long; it can wait another day.

He'll be _so_ pissed in the morning when Etna tells him Aramis made it all up so that he himself could spend the evening attempting to woo Mrs. Sir Almighty Evil Overlord. Aramis would feel the beating he got that particular morning for the next thousand years.

* * *

Movement IV: Duet

"Come on, prinnies! Step it up! Dinner isn't going to make itself, you know!"

The short, pink-haired girl's voice echoes through the large kitchen as if she were speaking through a megaphone. The prinnies reply with a unanimous "Sure thing, dood!" and go back to work on their respective duties. Some are singing, others are talking animatedly amongst themselves. It is a big day for the residents of the Overlord's castle; tonight is Laharl and Flonne's six-hundredth anniversary. Hanako wants to make this just right; she enjoys the notion that she is the best cook this castle has ever seen. As an added bonus as Etna's vassal she gets to order the prinnies around, which is pretty cool too.

A prinny kneading dough frowns at the girl and then turns to the prinny beside him. "Dood, she's getting to be a real pain in my fanny. Who told her she could boss us around?"

"I did."

"Doo—ood?" The prinny suddenly drops the dough its holding as it stares not into the face of another prinny, but into the visage of its longtime master, Etna. The prinnies on the other side of the kitchen pretend not to notice, but those close to the action completely stop what they're doing out of fear. After several decades of working under her they know exactly what she's going to do before she does it. They have already covered their heads up by the time Etna aims her well-trained strength at the prinny in question's fanny and kicks the poor soul through the ceiling of the kitchen. The sound of prinnies screaming finally draws Hanako's attention, and she marches over to Etna.

"What did you do that for, Etna? That was my cake prinny!"

"Come again?" When it came to making food Etna was totally lost; that was one thing Hanako had over her head. Still, she figured she'd be okay with that as long as she could still eat Hanako's cooking. Anything she made was loads better than the grub the prinnies used to stir up. Even having her order everyone in the kitchen around made a huge improvement on the food.

Hanako sighs, irritated, and taps her foot against the linoleum. "That prinny was in charge of all the baking we have to do today. I was going to have him make a three-layer cake for the party tonight! Also we still need bread, and it's definitely not going to bake itself. Looks like I'll have to send someone to the store to just buy some."

"Why don't you make it?"

Hanako gives her an _as if_ look. "Because _I_ am making the main dish! Oven-roasted leviathan peppered with spices all the way from Veldime! And don't forget Hanako's 'secret sauce'!" The girl strikes an odd pose at her last words, making Etna snort in laughter. In a halfhearted gesture of anger Hanako throws a towel at Etna, laughing herself. She walks out of the kitchen, motioning for Etna to follow. Once they're in the hall Hanako turns to the elder demon, a small smile lighting her features. "So, why'd you come all the way down here, anyway? I thought you and Flonne were going into town to find something to wear for tonight."

Etna rolls her eyes and plants a hand on her hip. "Seems like I'm the only one without something to wear tonight. Apparently, the Prince had a dress for Flonne custom-made. Don't get me wrong, the dress is fabulous, but now I don't have anyone to go with me. She said she'd still go, but I'd rather not go shopping with Flonne if I don't absolutely have to." Etna thinks back to the last time Flonne went with her to help her pick out an outfit and shudders; she had found herself in long, flowing white robes and cutesy no-heel shoes. If you were an angel, the clothing was probably okay, but for a demon it had been the epitome of lame. Etna can still hear the cashier laughing at her.

"So, you want me to go with you? Etna, I'm kind of busy—"

"Well, you said you'd have to send someone to the store to get bread and a cake anyway. Why not go yourself? C'mon, it'll be fun." Hanako sees it as quickly as it comes; the glint in Etna's eyes that signals that she is up to no good. "And maybe, if you come with me, I'll muster up enough Hell to get you a sexy outfit or two. Huh? Whaddaya say?"

Etna knew right where to hit; Hanako had a soft spot for sexy clothing. So, instead of getting a head-start on her leviathan of a dish (PUN!), Hanako finds herself in the Netherworld department store, trying on several different outfits while Etna puts on dress after dress in the stall next to her. As the younger girl pulls a skirt up her slender legs Etna calls to her from the next stall.

"Have you talked to your family recently?"

"Yes, actually. I just got a letter from them yesterday. Why?"

"No reason," Etna replies, turning everywhichway in the small stall, trying to see how the dress looked on her from every angle. From the side she thinks the lacy black dress makes her butt look twice as big as it usually does, but then again maybe it's just her eyes playing tricks on her. "Will you come out and take a look for me?"

"Sure," Hanako replies, stepping out of her stall just as Etna emerges from hers. Both girls survey what the other is wearing for a moment, then almost simultaneously shake their heads. Hanako frowns and blurts, "Where did you get _that_ thing? Looks like it belongs in the trash."

Etna is a little affronted. After all, _she'd_ thought the dress looked great on the rack, plus it was on discount. "I found it up front. What do _you_ have on? Looks like it was stapled together, or something."

Hanako, who is wearing a dark dress with several strands hanging off of either side, covers her chest up with her arms—an amusing action to Etna because Hanako was what the Prince liked to call a 'flat-chest'. "It's Goth! I thought you'd like it!"

In truth, Etna does kind of like the dress, but she feels the urge to hurt the younger girl's feelings just a little and curtly shakes her head. "Looks terrible, in my opinion. You can't fill out the top like you're supposed to, see? It's hanging down where it should be going up."

Hanako reddens a little and Etna does a little victory cheer in her head. Sticking out her bottom lip, Hanako plants her hands on her hips and declares, "That dress makes your butt look huge. Or, is it really the dress...? I wonder…"

Etna gasps in surprise; this time it's Hanako who internally cheers. She sticks out her tongue at her idol; Etna returns the gesture, and both girls spin on a heel and march back into their stalls. Their doors close with a simultaneous snap, and they don't speak for a while. Hanako is the first to break the silence as she tries on a slim green tank top.

"Tardo said he wants to come and live here."

"Say what?"

"Taro. You know, my uncool brother? He said he wants to come here and be Laharl's vassal. Says he wants to get strong enough to take Rosalyn from Adell." She laughs, and after a moment Etna's laughing with her, all insults forgiven.

"He's got a hell of a road ahead of him, doesn't he?" Etna laughs, looking at herself in a different dress. She decides white really isn't her color and sighs as she unzips the back.

"Doesn't he, though?"

"How _are_ Adell and Rosalyn, anyway?"

"Fine, I guess," Hanako mutters, eyeing the red blouse she is wearing. "They still won't admit to being a couple, though. It's driving Mom nuts."

"I can understand how she feels," Etna replies, rolling her eyes as she thinks about her two best friends. "I'm glad we don't have that problem here anymore. It took Flonne and the Prince two hundred years to finally own up. They're still iffy sometimes, but at least they're sleeping in the same room now."

Hanako laughs and puts on a tiger-striped orange jacket. "Hey, Etna, can you check out what I found?"

"Sure," Etna replies, smoothing out a wrinkle in her dress before opening the stall door. Hanako is already there and gasps loudly as she walks out.

"Etna, that dress is super sexy!"

"You think so?" Etna tries her best to keep her voice casual, but her chest swells with pride at Hanako's compliment. The dress she's got on now is blood red, the same color as her eyes with red lacing trailing down the back. It's short, stops just underneath her butt and is strapless. She wears the thin red scarf that goes with the dress wrapped around her neck and arms. In truth, Etna is a sight to behold, and she knows it as she grins like a Cheshire cat. She pauses from admiring herself in the mirror on the wall to glance at Hanako's outfit. "I like what you're wearing, too. Too cute."

"Really?" Hanako is dressed in a faded black jean skirt, a red shirt and an orange, tiger-striped jacket. She has the hood pulled up over her head, on which two cat ears have been stitched. She grins cheekily at Etna and declares, "You're getting this for me, riiiiiiight?"

Etna rolls her eyes and turns back toward her stall, also having made up her mind about what she wants, too. "Well, since you _are_ making us dinner, I suppose I can afford to get you a little something. And hey, maybe when we leave here we can stop and get lunch or something."

Hanako smiles genuinely as Etna closes the stall door behind her. She is happy not only because she's getting a cute outfit for free, but also because she knows that no matter how cool a brother Adell is he'd never be able to do things with her like Etna does. A thought flitters through the young demon's head—_sister_—before she turned back into her own stall. Even though she's never had a sister to compare this experience to, somehow Hanako knows that this is the kind of thing sisters do with each other. Laugh, argue, talk and go shopping. Have a good time.

In the next stall over, Etna is grinning as well because she feels the same way.

* * *

Author's Notes: The whole musical aspect of the fic is just to tie these odd four scenes together. Thank you for reading, and leave me a review if you feel like it.

* * *

Movement I: Introduction


End file.
